


Yako-san to Ningyou-kun

by Sailingdreameater



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masochism, Objectification, Original Character Death(s), Smut, Stiles Stilinski is Not Okay, Why Did I Write This?, good guys don't always win, messed up relationship, ooc stiles, scales of grey, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26341606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailingdreameater/pseuds/Sailingdreameater
Summary: "I felt everything I did. And the worst part was, I liked it."OrMy brain decided that it wanted everyone in Teen Wolf to suffer.
Relationships: Nogitsune/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 60





	Yako-san to Ningyou-kun

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm currently working on a really long fic. I hit a block and my brain came up with this instead. So, yay!! Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy the fic!  
> Drop a kudos if you do! <3

**_YAKO-SAN TO NINGYO-KUN_ **

The dreams always started like this. Him sitting like a puppet within these wall-less walls inside his mind. Trapped. Like a little thing in a cage. He would sit on the floor with his knees raised, arms covering his head as it lowered to rest between his knees. He could see clearly what was happening. Could hear it all. Could feel it all. He just wanted it all to stop. He curled further into himself, curbing the urge to enjoy what his other enjoyed. 

The only time he raised his head and removed the hands covering his ears was when this said other came visiting. They never showed their face to him. They only ever stood behind his back. Knelt behind him and held him like a warm blanket that shielded him from the wretched cold. The cold things they both did. 

‘It’s not my fault,’ he’d repeatedly chant to himself but even that wouldn’t hold much of his sanity because by the end of it, he’d always wonder. ‘But is it?’ 

It was in these times when they would appear behind him. Like water in the air. He’d appear and whisper sweet nothings in his ears like they were dirty secrets meant for his ears and his ears only. And every time his mind’s questions threatened to consume him, they’d soothe him like a mother would their child. Only, it would be a mocking, dirty, twisted, _twisted_ version of the same. 

‘It’s not your fault, my little _ningyou_ _,’_ they’d whisper. Finger tips grazing his shoulder as their hands gripped too tight, too excited, too perverted. ‘We are both in this together.’ 

‘But I don’t want to hurt them,’ he’d say. No. He’d beg. Plead. Cry. It didn’t matter. It never did. They’d simply laugh as he sobbed into his hands. 

‘It won’t matter for much longer, Stiles,’ they’d tell him. Voice; a promise. Words; a curse. 

They still held him. Even if Stiles didn’t want them to. Even if Stiles tried to fight back. The void restrained him. Tied him to the spot. And as he cried, the monster that trapped him here would hold him close. Held him so tenderly, so warm, fresh tears bloomed instead of wounds. 

He was so perfectly trapped and he didn’t know if he could ever escape from here. 

He didn’t know if he could even muster the strength to do so. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The demon was behind them as usual. They’d tuck their head in the crook of his neck and nip at it. Eliciting moans from him like it was their reward for every one of their deeds. And though Stiles fought hard, he’d still end up giving them the rewards. He was rewarding the demon for ruining his life. And he couldn’t even bring himself to cry about it now. 

He was used to it. 

\--------------------------------------------- 

Stiles didn’t know what day it was. Didn’t know if it was day or night. Didn’t know if his body was around other people or not. Didn’t know or didn’t care, did that even matter? 

Did it matter when he was trapped with a tormentor that posed as a lover? Insisted on it? Whispered it every time? Everyday? Everywhere? On his skin. Between his thighs. Behind. All the way from his nape to down below. 

Did it matter when all he could do was moan and cry from the pleasure of it all? Did it matter when all he could think of was about them and their little games that they made him play? 

It didn’t seem to. Really. All that mattered to him was to see his tormentor’s lover’s face. He waited for it. Yearned for it. Dreamed of it. If he could even dream! And all the while, the little dark chuckle they rewarded him beside his ear, made him tremble and shiver as he felt himself overheat. Panting and calling out for them with a name that he could only call subconsciously and never remember. 

He wondered vaguely if he was a shame to the people who knew him. The ones who are around him outside of this body. 

‘You said it yourself, Stiles,’ they drawled like they were mocking him from his thighs. He desperately tried to look for a face only to see the nothingness. It scared him. It made him feel like he was falling and not stopping. Never stopping. But a bite to his inner thigh and a moan later, he focused on the voice that tied him to his sanity. ‘The people who _knew_ you. They don’t know you anymore. Not now. Not ever from now on.’ 

‘Forever?’ His words painted his cheeks red, not knowing why he asked. If he yearned for recognition or the total opposite. They giggled as they licked the spot they bit before, jolting Stiles. 

‘Forever,’ they promised. And it seemed like a blessing instead of curse in that moment. 

He felt like he was voluntarily jumping into quick sand and squirming around just to drown faster. 

He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. 

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

When Stile _did_ finally come out into the surface (which was a lot more often that he’d give them credit for), he’d never remember his dreams. He could never hear their voice. All he could feel was the empty feeling of something missing. Something gone wrong and that he alone had the key to do so. 

His mind cried out for him not to sleep though and Stiles normally trusted his guts so he didn’t sleep that often. He feared what was waiting for him in his dreams. Perhaps nightmares. He stayed up instead. Trying to solve his Dad’s problems along with his own. Scott’s. Kira’s. He would find traces of himself with each clue he got and he hurt himself over it. Not knowing why he had an extra key or why all the incidents had traces of his own brand of ‘what-if’ ideas piled together. 

He chalked it to his paranoia and lied awake in bed as his very being fought the hardest to keep away the tiredness he felt. 

‘Stop fighting,’ a voice whispered by his ear and it caused goosebumps to raise on his skin. ‘Come back to me.’ 

He slept then. The second he did, memories flooded him and every single time, without fail, he’d struggle for that little bit of space and freedom he yearned for. Now that he knew what was actually happening, he couldn’t let them take control. He cursed and fought and when all else failed he wept and begged. 

Nothing helped. Everything he did only served as their amusement. Whether he fought them or let them be, they always took interest in him. As if he were some precious toy that they weren’t getting bored of, surprisingly. 

And as the days went by, that’s exactly what he did. He fought less and less and instead watched them. Watched them play with him this way and that, giving leeway now and then, here and there. And slowly. Bit by bit, he found himself playing too. 

It earned him their appreciation and thrill. They rewarded him with that bit more of their own plans. Telling him, whispering it in his ears what they were going to do next. And Stiles, like the obedient toy he became, answered and helped mould their plans better, crueller. He laughed with them, smiled with them and fought against Noshiko’s plans with them. 

He used to wake from such dreams with remorse and guilt and hurt. But now... Now he woke with a smile, a blank mind and no headache inducing thoughts. Just the odd sound of a fly buzzing too close to his ears. It didn’t bother him that much. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

‘Please,’ he whispered to them as they moved him this way and that. Tugged his body to suit them better. He was panting and bouncing in time with each thrust. Each time it hit, he felt that much closer to his climax. But he wanted more. 

‘Please,’ he moaned out, trying to turn his head to look at the demon behind him. They, however, had different plans as they held his jaw tightly in place. They snapped up into him and he lurched, screaming as they hit that bundle of nerves inside of him once more. Drool made its way out of his mouth and he couldn’t do anything to wipe it off, too far gone as it is and tied to place with nowhere to go but up and down on the hard length inside. 

‘Please what?’ Their voice was grounding as they grit it out. As if they were angry with him. They were probably angry about him telling Scott about the key and the handwriting when they clearly seemed to whisper time and again not to do so. They tightened their grip on his jaw as they leaned close to him, licking the shell of his ear. Their breath puffing hot by their neck. Stiles couldn’t take it anymore as he whined. But they were having none of that. ‘Please what, Stiles? What do you want?’ 

‘I-I want yo- hah,’ he panted, trying hard to get the words out. He tried to turn his face further back even as they held him tight. He was desperate. ‘I want, hah, to k-kiss you, please.’ 

‘I have no face of my own, _ningyou-kun_ _,’_ they cooed, chuckling as if he were cute. They put a hand around the base of his own cock, tight, not letting him cum. He whined harder, jerking in their grip as another hand steadied him onto their own selves. ‘I have no body of my own, Stiles. You know that, right?’ 

‘I don’t care,’ he shot back, agitated. Perhaps he’s been wanting this for the longest time and it didn’t seem to matter. He’d seen the bandaged hands. He had seen his own too. He just wanted what they were offering. No.... That was a lie. He wanted them the way they had him. He wanted everything. They laughed with a voice too raucous as they heard his every thought. ‘Please.’ 

‘Anything you want, Stiles,’ they purred as they kissed his nape once more. They turned him to face them and Stiles wasn’t surprised to see a copy of his own face staring back at him, watching his every reaction. ‘Well? Does it not suit your taste to see your own face staring back at you?’ 

‘It’s not my face,’ he says with a smile, still panting and still very much overheated by their actions. He traces every similarity on their face, noting how different it was from his own. Finally, his gaze rested on their eyes. The stark difference like a point of origin. He was drowning in those bottomless wells that sucked him whole along with the light around. They raised a brow as if urging him to continue. They traced their hands along his sides, making him shudder. They dragged their nails, nicking him here and there, watching him squirm and gasp at the sensations. He rests his head on theirs. Pants as they graze sharp claws over sensitive nipples. ‘It’s different. Completely different.’ 

They hum. 

‘How so?’ 

‘It just is,’ he replies as nonchalantly as possible. He runs a hand through their hair. ‘You may be a trickster but you can’t fool me.’ 

‘Is that so?’ They begin moving again, bringing Stiles to the edge over and over again with how they move against him so perfectly. As if they knew him inside out. 

‘Ye-hes,’ he breathes out. They pick up their pace, making him scream and hold their shoulders to steady himself. He arches with a particular thrust and as he comes down, they tug his face towards their own, kissing him. And that’s what pushes Stiles over the edge, cumming all over the both of them. He felt tears make their way out from the corners of his eyes from the pleasure of it all as he melts into the kiss. 

He lies over them, spent, as they finish inside of him. He moans at the sensation before winding his arms around their neck, nudging their head to give him space. They comply with a chuckle and Stiles purrs in satisfaction. 

When he next opens his eyes, he finds himself in his bed, aching hard and jerking off to the image of nothing in particular, to a name he can’t remember and ends up cumming. Panting and feeling better off than before when he had absolutely no sleep, he lies in his bed feeling sated and having no idea even why. 

“What even was that?” His words echoed through his room as he got out of bed and into the shower. Even in the shower he couldn’t help zoning out, wondering what was going on and what got him caught in such a fever dream. He tried chasing that feeling but nothing stayed. His own consciousness lessened its rebel against the sensations and the urge to run. He felt himself wondering if sleeping was a good idea or not, now that his mind stopped fighting against it so much. 

Well. That’s what he’d like to say, but it seems as if his subconsciousness wasn’t done fighting yet. 

Struggling to get out of a nightmare with a creepy bandaged monster that kept asking him riddles as if it didn’t faze it (it probably didn’t). Stiles hurt and felt cold as he fought over multiple sides of himself just to fight the thing. 

‘Stop fighting them.’   
‘Fight it.’   
‘Why are you fighting them? Just let it go.’   
‘What are you doing just sitting there? Do _something_!’ 

His mind’s voices were shattered into fragments and he didn’t know whom to listen to. If he should ask the monster before him to help him or do something to help himself and run away or just stay there and accept doom as his fate or plead the monster for a mercy it would never give or- _No_. He was going to go by logic and bide his time for now. He’s called for help; he’ll leave the thinking to someone else. Right now, he’s cold and probably dying. So, he might as well get some answers by solving those riddles. 

The creature (for that... _thing_ wasn’t human) just chuckled and for some reason, Stiles found himself reacting to it, shuddering as if he was burnt from something too cold. Like menthol. He chalked it up to fear and the cold. There was nothing else he could do. 

So, he waited. Waited for answers he felt he might never get. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Closed eyes open upon hearing the voice he has heard before. Cackling and asking him riddles. Taunting him and yelling at him. He screams, cries, begs them to stop and closes his eyes to stop the throbbing pain in his head. 

“I don’t know,” he yells and even though it is the truth, he feels like he’s lying. And lying to it...? To _them...?_ Is a big no-no. He cries, clutching his head and ears alike as he feels himself shattering. 

Shattering. 

_Shattering_ before- 

“What is it, Stiles?” The voice sounded like his yet he felt, heart of heart, the difference. The sound that whispered things by his ear, awake and asleep. The voice that laughed at his every action. At his every thought. The voice that made him feel things he’d never thought he’d feel. The voice that commanded over him like he was nothing but a mere toy. A play-thing in the hands of someone who doesn’t even truly have hands. He gasped softly with a voice barely audible to his own ears. 

“A shadow,” he whispered as it all fell into place and the whole puzzle was complete. He turned to see a face not unlike his own but so much different. He saw them stand there as if they were waiting for him with a coy smile and hands folded behind his back in anticipation. Watching. Waiting for Stiles to discern his own mind. His own being. And what was left was a war that crushed him so hard, he couldn’t breathe. He felt everything from clarity to confusion, from joy to guilt and from adoration to disgust. All together and moulding and burning his being as he collapsed onto the floor. 

They simply watched him, eyes brimming with amusement and Stiles didn’t know whether to grit or grin. He simply looked up at his doppelgänger with a look of sheer defeat and loss. Because that was the truth. He lost. He lost and he knew there was nothing he could do to change it. To change this. 

He only hoped Scott would do something to fix this, fix everything, fix _him_ as they bent down to lift him up. He was winded as they lifted him and placed him oh so gently on the table. They leaned over him, hands on his hips and lips dangerously close to his own. He couldn’t help but glance at them. 

“There is nothing to fix, _ningyou-kun,’_ they taunted him and he stifled the on-coming shiver and frowned, putting a hand between them and looking away as he couldn’t bear to look at the face that ruined everything of himself. 

“Stop calling me that,” he mumbled, eyes shifting between looking at them and away, licking his bottom lip. 

“ _Ara_ _ara_ _._ Then what must I call you,” they drawl and Stiles would point the obvious but then they brought those lips close to his ears and sighed. Stiles couldn’t hide the shiver then. “Perhaps... I could call you _Mischief_.” 

And that was all it took for Stiles’ brain to short-circuit. 

What followed was nothing Stiles’ mind could keep up with. Pants and moans. Pain and pleasure lacing through his body like ribbons as they kept whispering those same sweet nothings like dirty secrets in his ear. Only this time, they weaved those dirty niceties with even dirtier promises. 

“We’ll kill them all, Stiles. We’ll watch as all our plans destroy your little town and ruin everyone’s lives,” they said and Stiles would dispute that if he could speak. Instead, he clamped a hand over his mouth as he watched the three adults who were standing above him in the observation room. He felt tears slip out of his eyes as he wondered if they could see him like this. Ruined, being toyed with and helpless when he was normally never like so. He bit his lips till he was rewarded with that metallic taste. In a second, they were back in his line of vision, eyes clouded with sadistic pleasure and a smile to match. They kissed him, sucking the blood and biting for more. They run clawed hands over his person, leaving trails of blood and angry red wherever they touched and all Stiles could do was moan into it. 

“More,” he said instead of denying them and he didn’t even have enough time to change his mind before they were giving exactly that. 

As Stiles raked his own nails over their back, he wondered if this was how things were going to be for him from now on. He realized that the thought wasn’t scary at all. Afterall, he let them in. He wasn’t going to let them out. Thinking that, he tugged them even closer to himself and hid his face in the crook of their neck. 

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

When he woke up from the aftermath of stabbing Scott, Stiles was drowning in guilt. Everything in him screamed to shut the whole incident out and burn the memories to the ground. He couldn’t look himself in the mirror much less look at anybody else. He couldn’t meet their eyes. He couldn’t even meet Noshiko’s eyes. And she was someone he didn’t care much for. If anything, he blamed her for everything. But, yes. He couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes and all he could do with himself was walk around like the ghost of his past self with nothing but shame and guilt to make up for words left unspoken and conversations barely added on to. 

The worst part was, everyone knew this. They knew it and pitied him. That’s what drove him insane. That’s what made him mad. That’s what made him decide that the best place – the safest place, was Eichen house. And so, he walked in through the gates of Eichen with a Dad who was entirely unsure about everything but compliant and a group of friends who protested a tad too less for his decision. It was like they had already given up on convincing him and maybe he wanted that or maybe he didn’t, but in the end, he was staying in Eichen anyways. Stiles told Scott to take care of things but somewhere, deep down, he hoped that his Werewolf friend wouldn’t find a ghost of a clue much less a solution. He buried that too under all the guilt that weighed him down. 

His excuse was the probability of the Dementia but it was honestly just a way to distance himself from the judgement he put himself through as he met the others’ eyes. 

Who would ever think that Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski was voluntarily playing in the hands of their enemy? 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Clinging to Brunski, begging him not to put him under, Stiles felt himself drift off as the asshole decided to jab the needle anyways. He wondered if he could rip apart Brunski himself if the Nogitsune didn’t do it. 

The next time he opened his eyes, he was trapped inside a locker and terrified for his own sanity. Panicking and trying his best to open the door, he tried to take in as much oxygen into his lungs as he hyperventilated. There were tears forming in his eyes but he refused to cry no matter how consumed he was of fears and guilts that kept breaking him apart. 

The heavy breathing gave them away and Stiles abandoned all logic and reasoning as he bodily began slamming against the locker door. He just wanted out, out, _out_ . _Now!_

“Let me out,” he screamed as he banged a hand on the door. 

“Let me in, Stiles,” the voice retorted and his voice shook. No. If he let them in, they’d hurt everyone again. They’d do what they did to Scott to everyone he ever loved or cared for. Even worse. They might kill them. 

“No,” he replied with a deep breath as he let slip his hand from its place on the metal. This time, tears did spill out. “I can’t.” 

“Why not?” That made him furious. Their tone, that nonchalance, that voice. He shook with anger as he slammed his fist again on the metal door. 

“You know why, you, asshole,” he exclaimed. “Now, let me out.” 

“Why? Aren’t dolls meant to be kept inside safely when you’re not playing with them,” he replied coyly and chuckled. The tone made him shudder and gasp, angry and aroused. He hated what they did to him. “If you want to be let out, _Ningyou-kun,_ then you have to let me _in_.” 

“No,” he bellowed and continued banging at the door. He began using both his hands now. “Just let me out.” 

“Let me in,” they replied calmly. 

“Let me out, you asshole!” He couldn’t stop crying now as he grits his teeth and slams against the door. They simply laugh at his predicament. If he wasn’t hyperventilating before, he was now. 

“You’ve done it before, Stiles. You can do it again,” they say softly and he finds himself pausing just to take in what they say. Their voice alone seems to calm him down. It was oddly soothing. Stiles panted as he rested his head against the door, hands beside him, weak. “Let. Me. In.” 

“Please,” he begs as he banged one last time on the door. “Please. Just... Just let me out, okay?” 

And somehow, magically, that works because the next thing he knows is, he’s in the arms of a man covered in bandages from head to toe and who’s wearing a bomber jacket and an army uniform. He gripped the collar tight like it was his life line as arms encircled his waist and held him tight against them. He looked up to see a face that should be terrifying but he didn’t seem to care. He was still panting and crying and angry. He punched them square in the chest not caring to weaken the blow. And it was quite the blow, making them fall backwards and onto the floor. Only, Stiles was still in their vice grip so he came tumbling along. They hit their head on the lockers just behind them in the narrow area they were standing in. Stiles should’ve realized as two people itself was too much for the small space. He blinked owlishly at them as they watched him from their spot beneath him, not fazed by the sharp knock to their head. Or maybe the whole locker room was an illusion and the only thing that could hurt them was Stiles himself. 

Their hand on his cheek made him stop thinking as he slowly, doubtfully leaned into it. They simply pet him, quietly. 

“I’m scared to let you in,” he confessed abruptly, watching their face for a reaction but realized that he wouldn’t be able to tell either ways owing to their bandaged appearance. They only hummed as they brushed his hair. He leaned into it. He laid his head on their chest and let them do whatever. He didn’t dare close his eyes though. Fearing opening them and finding himself back in Eichen. “I don’t want you hurting my Dad or my friends.” 

“And yet here you are,” they say with a snicker. They harshly tugged his hair to make his eyes meet theirs and Stiles couldn’t help the groan that made its way out of his throat. Their fangs shimmered as they grinned too wide. But that soon turned into a cruel grimace as they snarled. “Did you forget my reason for causing all this pain? All this Chaos?” 

“You told me,” he replied and they tightened their hold, bringing his head that much closer to their own face. 

“Then you should know that I don’t forgive easy. And in case you haven’t noticed, _my darling_ , I’ve been _poisoned_. Surely you don’t think I will forgive them all,” they hissed out, words curling around the term of endearment and Stiles could only nod because he didn’t forget. How could he? He couldn’t feel them like he used to. He felt cold instead. So cold. He wanted them back inside, burrowing so deep into his being that neither of them could differentiate between themselves. He wanted them making a vessel out of them. Wanted them to- No. No. He couldn’t think like that. 

“At least leave Dad, Scott, Melissa and the rest of the pack alone,” he begged instead of voicing out his other desires. “You can do whatever you want with Kira and her family. And the rest of Beacon Hills if you want.” 

“Just them?” 

“Just them,” he told them with a conviction he could barely muster. They rewarded him with another grin and he sighed, knowing that they will comply. “Promise me.” 

“I promise as long as you remain with me,” they state and release their hold in his hair, combing through it instead. Stiles doesn’t really move, rather, just gets more comfortable. 

“Forever?” They smile with tilted head as they find him adorable. 

“Forever,” they assure him. He leans in for the kiss that he knew they were going to give him anyways. It felt like he was making a pact with the devil. But did the devil have to taste so good? It was positively addictive. 

The next moment, he opened his eyes to see Morrell standing over him like a cruel reminder that he has once again gone ahead and messed things up. He couldn’t even let them in again... 

\----------------------------------------------------------- 

When they brought out the drill and threatened to trepanise Malia through the help of Oliver as they lurked in the background, Stiles couldn’t help but roll his eyes. They were too dramatic sometimes. Thank God Malia was unconscious for all of this. 

“Let her go,” he ordered them, not worrying about his restraints in the least. He didn’t even bother turning his head to try and look at them. He ignored Oliver’s words too. 

“Why?” They were clearly playing. They were playing with him and their idea of fun was killing people. Stiles really shouldn’t have expected anything else. It didn’t faze him though. Just seemed to be unimportant at the moment. 

“You know I was going to let you in anyways. What are you doing bringing Oliver and Malia into this?” When they remained silent except to growl it finally dawned on him. His mouth curved into an O as he realized exactly why they were doing this. “You’re jealous.” 

“I am not,” the exclaim in indignation. Now, Stiles can see their face as they loom over him and snarl angrily. He giggles at their obvious denial. 

“Nothing happened,” he defended himself. “I said no to her advances, remember?” 

“Doesn’t matter. You said I could kill them all,” they stated like they’ve won. 

“I didn’t exactly phrase it like that...” 

“Does it matter?” 

“Well, no.” 

“Great! Then I’m going to-” 

“Actually, you can’t.” His words made them freeze and turn back to look at him with a tilted head. Stiles thought it was cute which, funnily, wouldn’t be a word anybody would use to describe them. He smirked triumphantly at them. “She’s part of the pack now. So, you can’t kill her.” 

“How is she part of the pack yet? Scott isn’t here.” 

“Yeah, but I am. And let’s be honest. I am the unofficial recruiter here.” 

“There should still be a signing authority of sorts.” 

“Yako-san,” he drawls with a little lilt to his tone. “I _am_ the signing authority. Scott might try convincing me but, in the end, I’m the one who holds the authority to recruit.” 

“Well played. I’m impressed,” they say and sound the same. He shines them a proud grin before closing his eyes. He willing opened the door and welcomed them in with open arms. 

“Oliver,” they call out sharply and the poor boy stops, shaking but otherwise obedient. Too bad they were done playing with him. They take the drill out of his hands once they freed themselves from the restraints. They then drop the drill in favour of snapping the boy’s neck. 

As they walk away, they sense Malia rouse from her sleep. 

“Stiles,” she calls out urgently, confused. Lifting her head, she squints to look at his retreating figure. They turn to look at her, smirk and then vanish, deciding walking to be too much of a hassle now that Malia was awake. 

That day, two other bodies dropped in Eichen apart from Oliver. One was Brunski. The other was Morrell. She was a tough egg but even she quacked in the end. They felt sated as they headed out of Eichen. They had plans to make and a price to be delivered. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

In less than one day, three bodies made its way to the morgue. Four others were transferred to the intensive care unit. And one other replaced Stiles’ place in Eichen due to excessive trauma. It was all like a sugar rush and they were too high to be taken down. 

Stiles didn’t seem to mind what they did inside his body as long as they made sure to cover their tracks so as to not create problems for the both of them in the future. Although, they knew that Scott and his pack might’ve guessed who was behind this from Noshiko. 

They really ought to end her soon. And that is exactly what they set off to do. 

\---------------------------------------------------------- 

Scott and Lydia search for Stiles inside his mind for what seemed like hours. Going in too deep and finding things that they couldn’t really understand along the way. They saw Japanese style houses instead of the normal houses they’ve seen and knew from Beacon Hills. Each house was empty. Not even furniture remained. Yet they all had one thing in common. They all had one of Stiles’ belongings in them. 

First was his bat and when Scott picked it up, he was hit with nausea and collapsed to his knees. Clutching his head with one hand and the bat with another, he was shot with flashes of fake memories of Stiles swinging his bat to beat someone up. Be it him, Peter, Derek, Aiden, Finstock or some of the teacher. It lasted for seconds before disappearing. 

The second house had the key to his Jeep. Holding them, Lydia had to be steadied by Scott as she was scarred with instant flashes of memories that were again false. Stiles slamming his Jeep into Kali, into Peter, into Gerard, Deucalion, Kira, Allison, the Sheriff, and someone Lydia assumed was Stiles’ mom. 

The third house had the gun the Sheriff kept in the house that Scott knew Stiles sneaked along with him in case something extremely dangerous happened but stopped when he realized they didn’t work on any werewolf. Again, he was forced to watch Stiles shoot him, shoot the Sheriff, Argent, Deaton, Isaac, Lydia, and finally himself. This time, Scott puked and Lydia had to soothe him. 

Heaving, they walk out again. They needed to find the right path to Stiles. This wouldn’t work. And so, they walked forward instead of checking each house. When they finally reached the destination of the school which seemed to be the only thing that looked exactly as it was. They both ran inside and found themselves in a white room with nothing else inside. Lydia looked around and then to Scott who was familiar with this setting and searched for the obvious. Lydia was the one who found it though, eyes sharp as her mind. 

“Over there,” she said as she pointed over to the Nemeton stump and Scott followed her sight of vision to see the same. On the stump sat Stiles and the Nogitsune and between them was a board game that both were too absorbed in. They ran and ran towards Stiles only for the whole thing to become futile as they end up coming back to the beginning. They were panting when Lydia suggested Scott should roar. And so, he does. He roars loud and demanding to be heard. Just as he does, both the Nogitsune and Stiles turns to look at him. He smiles victoriously and Lydia seemed glad too. 

Stiles looks confused as to why Scott and Lydia are here. He looks down at the board game and then at the Nogitsune who was growling at them softly, not wanting to be heard by Stiles but heard anyways. He gets up from his seat to go over to them when a hand grabs his wrist. Scott looks furious but that doesn’t faze him. He turns to look at the person who was holding his hand a little too tight. 

“Don’t go,” they warn him but he doesn’t understand. He puts a hand over theirs which was wrapped around his other and gently tugged. 

“I’ll be right back,” he assures them but they don’t listen, sitting there as still as statue with their hand still gripping his. “They’re my friends. I gotta go. I’ll be back, I promise.” 

Their grip loosened enough for him to remove their hand and turn towards Scott and Lydia, making his way towards them. Something was odd. He didn’t know what it was until Scott and Lydia disappeared and he turned to find the Nogitsune gone too. Stiles was alone and just as he wondered what exactly happened, the room trembled and thunder struck too close to his ears. He shut his eyes and clenched his ears shut as pain laced through him. He opened his eyes when the noise stopped and found himself suffocating in a too narrow area wrapped in something that wouldn’t move. He tried crawling upwards as something told him that that was the way to go and he followed his gut. 

As he breached the surface, hands pinned him to something soft but he still couldn’t breathe. Gasping and struggling to get free, he felt someone ripping away the cloth over his face. When he could finally see, he realized with a shock that he was in Scott’s house and wrapped in bandages. 

What was worse was he couldn’t feel them. With a startling realization, Stiles understood that they were no longer inside. They had split them down the middle and Stiles was left with an aching pain and feeling just too cold. 

“No,” he whispered in horror as everyone else focused on the missing Nogitsune and Lydia instead of his words. 

Stiles felt too numb to cry and too shocked to even speak. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep like that. With pain and cold rippling through his body taking their turns ravaging him. 

Stiles was alone now. Alone in his head. He was free of his lover tormentor. 

\----------------------------------------------------------- 

Stiles jerked awake from his slumber, body twitching and aching in a way that meant only one thing. It was all consuming but also dull. He felt colder than ever before. It made his teeth chatter and his body shiver. Scott watched him lurch off the couch and tried soothing him. He didn’t care much for it. It wouldn’t help him anyways. 

“Dude,” Scott called out shocked at his every reaction and Stiles wanted so badly to ignore him. 

“I’m fine,” he dismissed the wolf and shrugged on a jacket. He was still shivering even with the jacket on. 

“Dude you’re cold,” Scott pointed out the obvious and Stiles bit back a sarcastic comment. Before he could move away, Scott grabbed his hand. The second he did, he instinctively drew his pain. Black sludge made its way through Scott’s hands and Stiles flinched, snatching his hand away. Scott watched him with wide eyes and an open mouth. “Tell me the truth. How bad does it hurt?” 

“Sorta everywhere,” he confesses as he tried to warm his palms. He turns to shoot a glare at Scott who’s taken aback by the look sent his way. “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“I’m sorry but I need to know if you’re hurting, Stiles,” Scott tells him softly with a hurt expression as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I just want to help.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Stiles sighed and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. All the cold and pain also made his headache. Scott watched him, confused. He didn’t know what Stiles meant until Stiles looked at him with shifty eyes. Scott grit his teeth. 

“Of course, I had to,” he exclaimed and even though he knew Stiles clearly didn’t want him to touch him, Scott stood close by and made sure his best friend looked him in the eye as he spoke. “You’re my best friend, Stiles. I couldn’t let the Nogitsune just.... I just couldn’t let that happen.” 

“No,” Stiles echoes as he already realizes what this means. He sits down back on the couch and covers his face, trying to rub it warmer. He only feels the icy cold from all over. “No. You don’t understand. They’re not gonna let this go.” 

“Stiles,” Scott trailed off not knowing what to do and awkwardly hovering his hand over Stiles before shoving it back inside his pocket. He grimaces, not knowing what to do or what happened between the two. Stiles slowly lifts his head up to look at Scott, defeated and broken and it hurts Scott. He couldn’t even see the light reflect behind those pupils. 

“I shouldn’t have followed you and Lydia,” he said softly. The words cut through him just as painfully as when the Oni drove a sword through him. Stiles simply stayed quietly like that for the rest of the day. Not willing to take the test Noshiko insisted upon but being forced to anyways and not willing to go see his Dad either. The Sheriff made an appearance on his own and the man only felt even more heart broken seeing Stiles like that. Scott could only bring more blankets. 

That night when they were all ready to infiltrate, Stiles put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, stopping him. Scott looked curiously at Stiles whose hands felt like ice over his shoulder. He stopped himself from flinching at the biting, icy cold fingers’ touch. 

“Don’t go,” Stiles told him simply. He wouldn’t meet his eyes. That was all he said before dropping his hand as if they were useless by his side before finally looking at him. “I’ll go instead.” 

“I can’t do that,” Scott tells him sadly. He watches as Stiles clenches his fist tightly and licks his bottom lip, angry and upset. He could smell it. “You know I can’t. I’d rather you stayed at home instead. You need some rest.” 

Stiles sighs and shakes his head and walks out the door before Scott even had the chance to. Everyone else in the room with or without super hearing powers had heard their conversation and politely ignored it, albeit a little awkwardly. Isaac walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“While I do agree with you,” he began as he led Scott out of the door, “I don’t think any of us could stop Stiles even if we tied him to a tree.” 

That got a chuckle out of Scott. 

“Yeah. You’re right.” 

“That being said, what exactly happened to the guy?” Scott looked over at Stiles who sat in the passenger seat of his own Jeep as he leaned back with closed eyes. Anyone could see that Stiles was silently crying. Scott just didn’t know if it was for Lydia or because of the Nogitsune. 

“I don’t know,” he echoed as he stood there awkwardly watching Stiles wipe his tears and knowing there wasn’t a thing he could do. Not a thing any of them could do. Maybe time would heal whatever wound Stiles seemed to have. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------- 

When they were sitting in the station, giving their individual statements, Scott couldn’t help but think Stiles was right. They shouldn’t have gone there. He should’ve listened to Stiles. Maybe the Nogitsune would’ve repossessed Stiles but that meant they had another shot at getting the thing out of him. Instead, he was left with a dead ex-girlfriend. His first love that never really faded and it wrenched his heart to a point beyond reason. 

He was ripped apart from his first love for getting back his best friend and he didn’t get why the Nogitsune played with such terrible irony except for sadistic pleasure. 

Scott couldn’t help but wonder if they had abandoned Noshiko would this have happened. No. The creature would still possess his best friend. 

‘So, what do you want me to do? Abandon him?’ He clutched his head in his hands and tugged at his hair, back hunched over as he rested his elbows and his knees. He turned to look at Stiles who wasn’t that far off. He was listening to his Dad talk. He didn’t say anything. There was barely a nod. He looked too numb and too broken to be like the Stiles he once knew. This one cried more often, was plagued by a lot more nightmares than before and was soon to die. 

He steeled himself. He was going to save his best friend at the very least. No. He was going to _destroy_ that bastard demon from this plane of existence. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

When everything was done and the Katana went right through them, Stiles felt as if his own heart was being stabbed. He pushed Lydia away and stumbled forward to hold them. They glared at him and he couldn’t even cry. He didn’t dare look at his friends. Only them. Just them. They shattered in his hands. Shattered to pieces then to dust until that was all they were. 

Once, Stiles had sworn that he would shatter them like they had himself. Sworn it with such vengeance and hatred that now that it had happened, he felt like his words from back then were the curse that caused their undoing. 

The fly that tried to escape past Stiles and not towards him, made him even more upset. That meant they did not trust him. They were not willing to give him a second chance. They were done. And didn’t that sound just like a breakup? 

Instead, they (or rather, the weak remains of them) were trapped inside the triskelion box to never see the sunlight again. They got the worst possible fate they could get. A fate that drove them to the absolute maddening spiral of murders and sheer Chaos in the first place. They were to be trapped for all of eternity, never being granted less than the darkness they themselves were. Their only company would be themselves and the thrumming power of the remains of the Nemeton; their gate keeper. 

And Stiles? Stiles was to go back to his normal life and move past all that had happened. And, knowing Beacon Hills, all that _will_ happen. But that was all on the surface. He knew he wasn’t going to recover from this. Whatever this was. He wasn’t going to live life dusting off the dirt like he fell in a sand box. No. He was just going to have to hide those deep scars that cut through him and would never fade. 

As the dust at his feet blew away in the wind like they were never there to begin with, Stiles decided that this was it. This was where he wished things to end for himself as well and promptly fainted. 

When he did wake again, his friends were already smiling, relieved and all he could do was internally scream because even death was not something he could be granted. 

Stiles knew he was forced to live with everything he felt, did and thought from now on. Maybe forever. He knew that as his counterpart was cursed to live an eternity alone, he too was going to live through his time in the same way. At least he needn’t live for as long. He only had some decades. Perhaps less if he was reckless enough in his time here in Beacon hills. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

“When we were in your mind,” Scott began one day when he was helping Stiles with his back shots. Stiles sighed, not willing to continue this conversation as he eyed the ball Scott picked out with his stick. Scott spared a glance at him and Stiles knew he was pretending to make it sound nonchalant but failing miserably. There was nothing Scott could hide from him he knew that he was burning with unsaid questions so he gritted his teeth, tightened his hold on the stick and let Scott continue. “We saw some weird things.” 

“Scott. Dude, c’mon. You already know how weird I am,” he said even though he knew very well that that wasn’t what Scott was getting at. He hit the ball that was aimed at him but failed to hit it properly. Scott picked another ball out. 

“No. That’s not what I meant,” he stopped after aligning the ball to gesture as he spoke. “So, we were inside your mind searching for you, right? And we were sure we were in Beacon hills but instead, it was filled with these Japanese style houses.” 

“I was possessed by a Japanese demon fox. Doesn’t exactly matter, does it?” Scott threw the next ball at him and he failed to hit this one completely. He huffed in frustration. 

“I’m not done,” Scott began, talking more carefully as he smelled Stiles’ frustration creeping up. He picked another ball out. “We went inside some of the houses. It was all empty.” 

“Empty? That’s odd,” he commented indifferently and twirled his stick, readying himself for the next shot. 

“Yeah. But that’s not all. In each of the houses, we found something that belongs to you or something you’ve used a lot. Your bat, the keys to your Jeep, the gun,” Scott trailed off and hesitated, biting his lips because he didn’t want to recall how Stiles shot himself or harmed others. “Every... Every time we picked something up, we could see flashes of you killing someone. Peter, Deucalion, Derek, Deaton, your Dad, Lydia... Allison, me, yourself...” 

“....” Stiles nodded when he heard everything. He looked down at the net of the lacrosse stick before looking up at Scott. “You want to know to know what that was all about?” 

Scott nodded carefully as he twirled his stick. Stiles held his own stick and leaned on it as if that was the only thing that was going to support him now. Meanwhile, Scott heard the skip of a beat from him and wondered if he stepped on a landmine. Stiles licked his bottom lips, breathing through his mouth. 

“Alright,” he began as he shifted from one leg to the other nervously. “It’s my coping mechanism. Every time I get pissed off with one of you guys, I’d imagine something like that. It began when my mum became worse. You know I had anger issues, right?” 

Scott nodded again and Stiles licked the inside of his cheek before biting it, putting his stick down to talk. 

“Yeah. That’s what that was. And the Nogitsune took advantage of that. They told me that we were alike in a lot of ways. Convinced me that we were the same. Just that I had no means to execute it. They did.” 

Scott stood there awkwardly not knowing what to do or say, freezing like a puppet with its strings cut off. 

“Stiles-”   
“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” he cut his words, picking up his stick once more. He turned to walk back to the locker room, his mind reeling to the last time he was in a similar room. He turned his head to look at Scott one more time. “I appreciate that you wanna help, man, I do but I’m not ever gonna talk to you or anyone else about it. About them.” 

With that he walks away leaving Scott standing there in the field wondering when exactly he became this distant with his best friend. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Noah kept silent when Stiles began coming back late at night or the next day some weekends. He was free to do what he wanted. He kept quiet when Stiles continued this even during weekdays. At least the kid made sure to catch up on his work before going out. He stayed mum about it when Stiles left for Friday and didn’t come home until after school on Monday. He shut up about it when Stiles came home with wobbly legs, a limp and sometimes even smelling of alcohol. 

‘The kid’s smart,’ he told himself. ‘He knows what to do.’ 

And even though Noah felt the red flags in his gut hoist themselves like a proud elephant, he shoved the food Stiles made for him into his mouth and chewed on it as Stiles himself carefully sat down, wincing a bit. 

The first time he put his foot down was when Stiles came home one day, luckily on a night he didn’t have a shift on, and walked straight to the bathroom after mumbling something about needing to take an urgent whiz. He followed behind a minute later and found the door to the bathroom unlocked as his genius son sometimes forgot simple things like this. He walked in when the smell of antiseptic hit his nose and saw his son nursing bruises littering his shirtless upper body, sitting in the empty tub. 

“Okay. Wanna tell me what is going on now?” He folded his arms as Stiles turned to look at him with wide eyes. 

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled again and Noah was grinding his teeth. That’s it. He wasn’t going to let this go on any longer. 

“Nothing? Stiles, son, you have bruises all over you,” he exclaimed and quickly dropped to tend to his wounds. Stiles watched him silently, not uttering a word. “How old’s the guy?” 

“Dunno. Enough, I guess,” Stiles stated softly. Noah just realized how wrecked his voice sounded. He looked up in between. 

“Is it the same guy?” 

“No.” He nodded as Stiles played with his fingers. It was a nervous trait. Good to know the kid knew that what he was doing wasn’t right. 

“Different guys. Alright. What went wrong this time?” 

“He hit me,” Stiles said slowly. 

“Clearly.” Noah sighed, pinching his brows before continuing on with his job of patching Stiles up. “You do understand I’m allowed to ground you and ban you from ever going out to places like that, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Will you listen to me if I did?” He looked up to watch Stiles’ reaction. The kid just continued playing with his fingers, not even sparing him a glance. 

“...No.” Noah sighed again. 

“Well, you are. And I’m getting the pack in on it.” 

“Do what you want,” Stiles told him with a shrug that just made Noah even more exasperated. Once he was done patching him up, he stayed kneeled down before him, watching his son carefully. 

“I thought you were smarter than this, Stiles,” he said sharply knowing that the only thing left that he could do was play the strict parent. That got the required reaction out of Stiles who paused and looked at him. He noticed that his lips were quivering. From anger or sadness, Noah didn’t know. 

“Sorry,” he whispered brokenly and Noah couldn’t do anything but purse his lips. He frowned. 

“You better be,” he stated instead hugging him because he knew that he’d be pushed away anyways. He compromised to putting a hand on his son’s knee. “Get some rest and don’t even _think_ about going anywhere but school, home and Scott’s place.” 

“Okay.” He nodded and got up, brushing Stiles’ hair before walking out of the bathroom. There was nothing more he could do or say. The kid wanted to be alone or, rather, he wanted some other company. Company that he was sure as hell not going to get because said company was trapped in a wooden box and kept God knows where. 

In his room Noah wished he could drink but he knew the best he could do was just go the fuck to sleep instead. He didn’t want Stiles to deal with another mess. He lay awake in bed instead knowing there was no sleep awaiting him tonight. No dreams with Claudia in it. If anything, he’d have nightmares of his son dying in a ditch somewhere. 

Noah hated seeing his son like this but he also knew that he couldn’t do anything. He covered his eyes with an arm and closed them anyways. Deafening silence rung out in the room beside his. It was never this quiet before. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Stiles couldn’t help it. He continued his little escapades. Made his way to Sinema or somewhere else. Clubbed. Found a guy old enough and rough looking enough that suited his tastes. Guys he knew would mess him up and didn’t care enough to ask how old he was. Guys that would ask the least amount of questions actually. He’d manipulate Derek or Peter but he couldn’t be bothered to answer their questions. 

Most times he’d go out, he’d take precautions. Saw to it his Dad was definitely going for the night shift. Ensuring that the motion sensor at home malfunctioned so his Dad wouldn’t possibly track him. Made sure Scott covered for him. He went above and beyond by bribing Malia with Math cheats and promises to do her assignments as well. 

This time around was the same. He was in a club that was somewhere in Beacon County. It was far away but he didn’t mind. It meant no familiar faces. Not even the few kids from his school that sneaked in or worked in the clubs. All of them normally looked at him with surprise or with recognition. But most simply ignored because they all knew that this kind of thing was not something any of them were willing to open up about. 

Stiles looked over his shoulders to see the man who had begun grinding behind him. Bingo. He got exactly what he wanted. He smirked his best, coquettish smirk and grinding back in time with the heady, heavy beats. After a while, the man leaned over and whispered in his ears. He faked a shiver. He would feel the tingle but nothing ever made him feel the way _they_ did. 

“Kind of late, isn’t it?” Stiles was surprised. Normally the guys built up to it. This guy was confident. Sure, he had the face to back it up but- 

“Oh,” Stiles let a surprised little squeak, blushing lightly as the man presses their waists together. Damn. He was quite the surprise. Sure, it wasn’t like _theirs_ but this would do. Close enough. Yes. _Yes._ He turned a little, dancing a bit, grinding on the man’s clear erection all the while maintaining that winning smirk. “You’re right. It _is_ getting late.” 

“My house isn’t far,” he murmured before licking a stripe of his neck, Stiles arching to give him space. He then bites and kisses the area eliciting sweet moans and an impatient tug of his shirt from the shorter male. “C’mon sweetheart. Let’s get you more... Comfortable.” 

“That seems doable,” Stiles plays along. 

Stiles was basically thrown into the car and before he knows it, he is rutting against the man in the back of his car and knowing that they might never get to reach the guy’s house. They were both too impatient to wait. Kisses and pants filled the car with noises that would make grown men blush. God knows the ones inside were. One climax later, the older male decided getting to his house to continue would be a good idea. Stiles decided blowing was a better one. So, while on drove with surprising confidence, the other bent down to kneel between the former’s legs. 

He treated Stiles just the way he wanted. Rough and merciless. He throttled Stiles down and onto the bed and all he could see was stars. Everything was going well. He was on cloud nine and getting his rocks off. The dude seemed to be getting his own kicks out of this. It was all fine right until his partner for the night leaned over him and began weaving dirty things with sweet nothings into his ear and Stiles’ eyes snapped open. He couldn’t help but think of _them_. He put a hand between them both, pushing. 

“Woah, hey,” he drawled with a smile. He was met with a raised eyebrow as the guy leaned backwards. 

“Too much like your ex?” That caught Stiles off-guard. He scooted back on the bed excuse already in mind but instead caves in. 

“How’d you guess?” He cursed his curiosity. The guy threw his head back and laughed before grinning at Stiles. 

“Should’ve stayed in school, kid. You’re not as subtle about things as you think you are.” 

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned about being caught around jailbait?” 

“Why? Was your ex arrested?” 

“You could say that. But no. Not because of that.” 

“Then what for?” 

“... Murder.” 

“Wow, kid. You really have shit taste in men.” 

“I know.” He whistled and leaned forward to kiss Stiles. They were dirty and open mouthed. Stiles shut his eyes, imagining the face he really wanted to imagine. The man reminded him too much of them from time to time with certain gestures and Stiles didn’t know how or when the guilt creeped in. As frustrated as he was, he picked up the lamp that was beside the bed and smashed it hard to the point he knew would mean instant death relief right as he climaxed. After riding out the high, when he was finally sated (so, _so_ good), he realized what exactly he had done. 

Stiles took action immediately. Hiding the body, removing evidence of him ever being there. All that was easy after too many nights of research and too many of his Dad’s cases reviewed. Too easy. He closed his eyes and reviewed everything of the night. He was in the club. No paper trails obviously. He avoided CCTV cameras, too paranoid as he is. He was good at slipping in and out of places without being heard or drawing attention to himself. Which is why he was more than confident that no one saw him enter or leave. Just to be safe and to pick up his Jeep, he made his way to the club again, walking. 

He sneaked in through the window of the restroom. Lucky for him, there was no one except an extremely drunk guy puking in one of the toilets. He walked out casually, as if he was in the restroom all this while. He made his way out, took his Jeep and slowly drove back home. 

He expected his Dad to stand before the door, arms crossed and waiting to question him but nothing came. Instead, he opened the door to an empty house and felt that emptiness echo inside him as he heard the ghost of a too raucous laugh. 

Stiles silently made his way to his bed and closed his eyes as if it were any other normal night. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Stiles kept his eyes peeled out for any news about the dead body. There was no such news. They haven’t even noticed the missing person. They will. Soon. They might even find the body. However, for some reason, he can’t seem to bring himself to care. He just went about his day again. Went to school, went home, did the usual amount of snooping, sleep, school, confront his friends who were still too awkward around him (it was his fault this time. They all knew about his newly surfaced habits. They just didn’t know what to say. Especially Scott.), and go back home. 

He avoided going out for a while. Stiles took to just lying down in bed and staring at the ceiling. He’d close his eyes when they stung. When the tears were threatening to slip out over the brim. It’s been over a month now since the Nogitsune was gone and Stiles still couldn’t get his shit together. No one said anything, didn’t know what to say. Everyone was trying to cope with the loss and pain left behind in their wake but Stiles was dealing with things that were a little different. 

“I think he’s suffering from Stockholm Syndrome,” he heard Lydia tell the others one day. They shut up the second they realized he was there nearby and could hear them. 

‘You guys have heightened hearing,’ Stiles grumbled to himself as he slammed his books onto the library table and sat beside them, prickly by his sides but refusing to budge. ‘Might wanna use that better.’ 

Stiles wasn’t suffering from some stupid complex. Of course, he might not be the best judge but even he knew that everything the Nogitsune did was wrong and nothing could justify it. He didn’t sympathize with the bastard. If anything, he knew that they had it coming. That didn’t change the fact that he fell in love with the asshole. Or that they brought out the worst in Stiles. Or the fact that Stiles felt no remorse after all the death they both brought to Beacon Hills. All the Chaos. If anything, he found a certain thrill in it. 

He would never say this out loud, however. Couldn’t. So, he just shut up and let his friends think whatever they wanted. Better let his friends think that he was messed up in the head rather than know they straight up had a murderer amongst their midst. One that didn’t care that Allison or Aiden had died. One that would rather side with the monster that caused all this havoc to begin with just because. 

Was he even their friend anymore if this was what he thought? 

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

His feet led him to place he doesn’t think he’s ever been to before but seemed familiar. His hands were shaking when he realized what this meant. Whether it was from excitement or fear, he didn’t know. Probably both. He couldn’t breathe the closer he got to the destination. He didn’t know how long he had been walking. His legs were sore and he felt himself shake all over. 

He found himself clearly in one of the Argent vaults. There was no doubt about it. The place looked like a large abandoned freezer rather than a series of vaults. As he made his way into the place, not caring about the motion sensors or cameras as his feet took him where he had to be, he realized that this was it. There was no going back from here on. 

He kneeled down to look at one particular vault. His hands automatically keyed in the code as if he knew them by-heart. He opened the vault to find a singular triskelion box nestled neatly inside. He picked it up without a doubt in his mind. 

The thrum of power from the box seemed to warn him about the existence inside but all he could do was smile at the little thing, holding it close to his chest. He was a lot more conscious of his actions now. There were no driving instincts guiding him to open the box. This was all his choice. Let them out or not. It was all his choice. 

It seemed a little hypocritical considering they brought him all the way here. He smiled even more, nevertheless. Opening the box, he felt more than heard the familiar buzz of innumerable houseflies. He felt his consciousness pushed back, inwards, as another forced its way inside. He didn’t fight back. 

They rumbled in his mind like a storm waiting to rain on him. He didn’t mind. 

“I missed you,” he spoke honestly. He didn’t feel nervous. Not in front of them. Not anymore. Instead, he fidgeted absent-mindedly in excitement. They growled, a hand immediately on his throat and he didn’t hold back the groan that made its way to his mouth. 

“And what makes you think I won’t kill you,” they snarl. Their hot-breath in his face and Stiles wondered if his pupils were dilated. They tightened their hold on his neck making it hard for him to breathe. He was chocking inside his mind and out. His body struggled to force air into his lungs while inside he only held the hand closer to his neck. 

‘More,’ he thought even as he couldn’t breathe. ‘I want you more.’ 

“That’s fine,” he said out loud as he struggled to even speak. They tilted their head, letting Stiles amuse them. “You can do whatever you want with me.” 

“Why are you so confident that I won’t throw you away, _Ningyou-kun_?” He shivered at the words. Yes. He missed this. He smirked at them, leaning closer when their grip on his throat lessened enough. 

“Because you’ll be too bored without your favourite toy,” he disputed cockily. They let go of his neck and Stiles drops down to the floor, heaving and coughing, taking in all the oxygen he can. He giggled, giddy. He chalked it up to the lack of oxygen. They bent down to his level and yanked on his hair so that he couldn’t look anywhere but at them. 

“That’s true,” they said with a smirk of their own. Their eyes raked over his body almost affectionately. Stiles shuddered under their gaze. There was no chance for him to run away now. Not even if there were ten true Alphas. “You’ll have to pay for what you did.” 

“Okay,” he agreed readily with a smile as they pulled him up to his feet by the hand. He went up willingly. They held his jaw tightly all of sudden, grin sharp like the rest of their features. They really didn’t look like Stiles. 

“I might kill everyone you care about,” he threatened and it settled heavy in Stiles’ gut before he swallowed. He shook his head and smiled once more. 

“No. You wouldn’t do that,” he answered and they raised a brow, leaning closer to him. Stiles couldn’t help peaking at their lips. They ran their hands under his shirt, finally settling for keeping them by his waist. It sent goosebumps all over his skin. They enjoyed his every reaction. 

“Oh?” Their challenging tone was the same and it made Stiles feel better than he had all month. 

“Yeah. Because I kept up my end of the promise,” Stiles answered with confidence, leaning into them just so they could be closer. “I promised that I would be back. That I’m never leaving. You gotta keep your end of the deal now. I already paid the price for walking away once. So, we’re square now.” 

“Is that what you think?” They weren’t going to back down. But Stiles knew this was just their version of banter. Stiles nodded. Their grip on his waist didn’t tighten but their claws teased in way that was absolutely sinful. Stiles chocked, body reacting excessively to the simple gesture. “Well, then. I better keep my end of the bargain.” 

They tug his hair and demands for his lips, biting and sucking like it didn’t matter if Stiles denied them. As if they were confident Stiles would let them do whatever. He knew that was the truth anyways. 

When Stiles could look out into the world outside theirs, he heard the bullet make its way towards them. Argent stood before them and didn’t hesitate to shoot. His eyes were filled with rage, betrayal and confusion. They simply smiled softly at the poor man and disappeared. The last thing they heard was the bullet hit a vault that stood behind them. 

Stiles was right. There was no going back from this. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

After Stiles went missing, Scott had no time to even blink. A flurry of things happened at the same time. A few more bodies dropped. Meredith and Noshiko were two of the people who died. Kira and her Dad were miserable. The Sheriff was devasted but by the way he looked, it seemed like he was expecting something like this. Scott couldn’t deny it. He was thinking the same thing. 

Argent had told Scott some surprising things. He told that he found Kate dead in front of his lawn with no other pretence. 

“Kate was alive?” Scott paused, doing a double take as he bit his nails. 

“Apparently so,” came his surly reply to Scott’s shock. He then plopped his laptop before the seated Alpha and played a video. “I took the time to go through this after the Nogitsune got away that night.” 

He played the video and Scott watched intently as his friend strode into the vaults and opened one particular vault. Argent paused there and looked at Scott. 

“How does he know?” Scott’s question made the elder man look solemn. 

“He shouldn’t,” he answered simply, exhaling through his nose, rage and frustration rolling off of him in waves. 

“So, he was still under the Nogitsune’s influence? That shouldn’t be possible,” Scott exclaimed as he chewed his nail intently, his eyes still glued to the screen. 

“You’re telling me,” Argent said sarcastically, folding his arms. They think for a while before Scott’s closes his eyes and sighs. 

“Well, it’s happened. How do we get Stiles back this time?” Argent looks at him with a raised brow. Scott stops biting his nails to look at Argent, surprised. “What?” 

“Scott,” he began hesitantly, cringing as he knew the kid probably didn’t want to hear this. “I don’t think we can do anything this time. Stiles was smiling on his way inside.” 

Without a word, Argent continued the video before Scott could refute the statement. They watched as Stiles looked frozen before constantly mumbling something. He fell down to his hands and knees as he tried hard to breathe as if he was chocking. He kept mumbling the same thing over and over. He only stopped when he stopped chocking, coughing and heaving before smiling. It didn’t sit well with Scott. 

“What’s he even saying?” Scott couldn’t identify the words Stiles was saying even after squinting. 

“Sorry,” Argent interjected with the answer. Scott looked up at him once more while the other looked at him dead seriously and tired, brows knitting. “He’s saying that he’s sorry.” 

Scott looked back at the grainy image of his friend on the screen, swallowing around a lump in his throat. He didn’t understand exactly why Stiles would do this. He put a hand to his forehead, tired and knowing that he was running on fumes at this point. 

Argent put a hand on his shoulder in comfort but that really didn’t help. He lost the two people he didn’t want to lose. His first love and his best friend. 

He failed. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Are you regretting this?” They asked him and Stiles almost missed the question with the way he kept seeing stars. 

“What?” He asked unintelligibly as he was pushed again and again onto the Nemeton stump, feeling the heat build almost intolerably at the base of his spine and shooting upwards. He was moaning wantonly. And really, why was he expected to hold a proper conversation at this point in time? A sharp snap of their hips thrusting into him had him screaming so loud, he was sure to have scared a few animals. 

“You heard me,” they whispered roughly into his ear before biting it. Stiles mewled and immediately turned beet red. It was embarrassing to make those kinds of noises. And, somehow, only the Nogitsune knew how to draw them out of him. The right bit of pressure, a tug here, and a push there, a scratch here, a kiss there. It got him all wound up and unravelled at the same time. “Speak.” 

“I should,” he answered knowing that they were only going to drive him insane if he didn’t answer. Besides, it didn’t matter when they’d eventually find out everything anyways. He couldn’t actually hide anything from them. 

“You should,” they prompted, slowing down their pace and earning a whine from Stiles. 

“I should,” he drawled trying to talk over the noises that escaped his mouth as he bounced back and forth. “But I don’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I had to pick a side. And- hah, and I can’t live without you. N-not anymore. Not after you changed me so much,” he panted out, dragging out the ‘so’ with one particularly good thrust. They chuckled and began kissing his neck and back. He knew those were good answers because he was being rewarded now. 

“I didn’t change you, ningyou-kun,” they sing-songed and made their pace brutally slow. Stiles was a sobbing mess, begging them to go faster. “I, hmm, only brought out the little hidden corners of your mind that needed a little show and tell.” 

“Don’t, unh, don’t be pretentious. Just, hah, take the compliment,” he bit out and they bit his neck hard enough to draw blood before setting a hard and fast pace. Tears fell down onto the stump below as Stiles littered them with praises and thanks. They pushed him off and sat on the stump, tugging Stiles onto their lap, facing them. 

“You better not change your mind again,” they warn as claws scratched his sides all the way down to his waist. Stiles gritted his teeth as he bounced on their length, too far gone to think anymore. 

“I never planned on changing my mind in the first place,” he insisted between moans. It was almost gibberish to his ears. They tongued a nipple, sucking on it and Stiles arched backwards as it was timed perfectly with a thrust to just the right spot. 

“Don’t be cheeky,” they muttered on his skin, tickling it and Stiles wrapped his arms around their head keeping them in place. 

“Never,” he said cheekily and moved in time with each thrust and tugging on their hair. They looked up at him and Stiles knew exactly what they demanded for. He leaned down to kiss them and his brain couldn’t think up words much less thoughts as all his nerve ending were on fire. Fingers teasing his nipples, tongue sucking on his, trying to drink him all, and cock hitting his prostate with every thrust. He couldn’t get away even if he wanted to. No, he would never want to get away. 

He climaxed just like that and they continued on to thrust into him until they finished inside him. But when he thought all was done, they tugged him off of their length and shoved him down, head first towards it. He took the already hard cock into his mouth, sucking and licking, not getting enough. 

They shoved it all the way in as Stiles tried hard not to gag, eyes shining with even more tears. They used his head like it was just a toy and Stiles found himself getting hard again. He jerked himself off just as they did with his throat before they turned his body away. Stiles felt embarrassment creep up all the way down his neck when he was facing their cock and they, in turn, could get a proper view of his insides. 

“Go on,” they urged him on and he began sucking earnestly on their cock. Just as he was getting into it, he felt something wet circle his hole and dip inside. He let out odd noises, mouth still on their length. They were teasing him, he realized. 

Stiles wasn’t willing to let them do as they pleased all the time. And so, he tried focusing on the task at hand without getting distracted. It was easier said than done when they swirled their tongue and fingers inside him so masterfully. 

Soon, he was turned into an absolute wreck as he moaned around their length, gagging when he kept accidentally taking them down his throat with every lick or suck and every time their clever fingers worked through him. He was cumming again all over them. Soon after, he was drinking all of theirs. 

While he laid there, spent and panting, they cleaned the both of them up with the flick of a finger. It doesn’t take long before they are inside him again, the artificial body disintegrating. 

“It was a good idea to absorb the power of the bone woman,” they commented like they were talking about the weather. Stiles snorted. 

“Maybe let’s not talk about homicide when we have sex. Or after. Let’s never connect sex and murder ever,” he advised sarcastically. They walked away from the Nemeton and as they did, Stiles couldn’t help but wonder. “Where to now?” 

“Hm. We have to stay low to avoid Argent from tracking us,” they said slowly, thinking. They stood over the cliff of Beacon Hills. It was a full moon and they wondered about their more moon crazy cousins. Stiles was struck by the beauty of the moon instead. It was a picturesque view from up there. “Why don’t we go back to my homeland? Japan.” 

“Too predictable,” Stiles quipped. 

“Probably. But I’m sure it’d be better than staying in America.” 

“Just say that you’re homesick.” They laugh. 

“Maybe I am,” they concede and Stiles feels the same joy they feel. 

“Let’s go.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Owari. 

**Author's Note:**

> Translation:  
> Ningyou - doll  
> kun - suffix used to refer to guys your age or whom your friendly with  
> san - another suffix that is sorta like 'Mr.' You use it with respect or for someone older than you  
> ara ara - orgasmic onee-chan language (don't Google it, just trust me on this)  
> owari - end  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> Hewwoooooo~~~ uwu  
> I'm here to tell you that my next fanfic is the same Nogitsune/Stiles. Dunno why I have been obsessing over this... Hehe~  
> It's pretty long compared to the other fics under this ship (which is basically this one and the one before, hehe) and I might just have to post chapter by chapter cause I haven't edited it. Or completed it... But, I'm getting on with it!  
> In the meantime, I hope this one was good enough.  
> Seriously, this ship is really underrated.  
> Welp! That's it from me. Hope you loved it.
> 
> Love,  
> Sailingdreameater <3


End file.
